I think it’s almost impossible to grow up with parents who were weird about what food they let you eat (like mine) and not be sneaky about food. For example, Mr. E’s parents never gave a shit what he ate (and as far as I know he NEVER sneaks food, why would he?), while my parents were always watching what I ate, always checking up on me. I was very aware of what food was forbidden and I snuck it and I still do.

For me I think it has to do with a sense of shame, a sense of failure. At least now that I am a “grown up”, for me it’s not that I do or don’t deserve to eat certain things in other people’s minds, it’s that I have failed at following a strict diet plan. I have given in, I have fucked up. I was less than perfect, I ate cookies, and I don’t want anyone else to know.

I often make grandiose statements to Mr. E that I can’t keep (like “I’m not going to bake anymore” or “I’m not eating any more crap”) and then sometimes if he’s feeling brave he will call me on it when my intentions fade and I cave and make cookies or want to go to the store to get ice cream. And I don’t WANT to be called on it!

Really, it’s not his fault, I set myself up for failure when I say things out loud like “I’m not baking any more”. And I know he thinks he is trying to help me and that I want him to motivate me, but the reality is that I don’t. Or maybe the reality is that being called on something you know you shouldn’t do isn’t motivating?

For example last night I pretty much tried to hide the fact from Mr. E that I was going to make chocolate cookies. Why can’t I just say “Oh, ha, I know I said I wasn’t making any more cookies or eating any more crap and I know that I’m going to be mad at myself come Friday morning but right now I want to eat cookies more than I care about losing weight”.

I guess because then I would have admit out loud that I am being “bad”, that I am failing, that I am NOT in control, that I am not following the rules, that I am fucking up and that I care more about eating than I do about being thin, and that when I have gained weight on friday it’s my fault, and it’s because I couldn’t control myself, and it’s not some random blip on the scale, it’s because I fucked up.

Although it’s interesting that I am so concerned with justifying it. Is it a self fulfulling prophecy? Did I make Mr. E feel like he had to say something because I was being sneaky? Why couldn’t I just say “Hey, I’m craving cookies, and I have the points for them, I think I’ll make some?”

Meg has me pegged. I don’t believe I deserve treats. I think like a fat girl who deserves nothing more than to be castigated and punished, who can only have cookies if she justifies them or sneaks them, because everyone knows fat girls shouldn’t eat cookies. More self loathing.

In my mind I need to lose ten pounds, so I don’t deserve cookies, or anything really. When the reality is that I don’t actually need to lose ten pouunds to be healthy, it’s purely a personal thing at this point, and I could eat a cookie or two and it won’t make a damn bit of difference. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I have an excuse to hate myself. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I never deserve the cookie. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I never have a normal cookie eating experience. Because not having to lose weight and not having to castigate yourself for eating cookies and not feeling guilty and terrible about eating treats means only one thing. The thing that scares me more than anything in the world.